


SHORT STORIES

by sugarsubstitute, sunshineandsolace



Category: Original Work
Genre: 'uGH FEELINGS', Gen, Other, Some Humor, and you gotta have rain scenes, at least once, i will try my very best to make everyone in the world cry, motto: 'if you don't cry i didn't write it well', no continual plot, probably, rain scenes like that umbrella scene from miraculous ladybug. the one that made me cRY, the characters in some chapters will just be like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-13 14:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarsubstitute/pseuds/sugarsubstitute, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineandsolace/pseuds/sunshineandsolace
Summary: just a small collection of short stories and drabbles, hope you enjoy ^3^





	1. Containment

I didn’t know if I had the courage to do this. I had been awoken by the terrified screams of the other inmates, all waking up to the same treacherous nightmare as me. You never do get used to the atmosphere of prison. I’d been on death row for the last six weeks, trying to enjoy the remaining days before my inevitable death.

My cell was small and dark, the confining walls seemed to edge closer to me the longer I stared at them. The only daylight in the room crept cautiously between the bars covering my windows, attempting to bring some hope into this depressing, dystopian world. No matter how hard it tried only a minuscule slither was able to penetrate the thick bars, barely making it through the abyss to reach my fingertips, which were languidly resting against my bed frame. 

I hauled myself out of my cot, the freezing chill of the winter morning raising gooseflesh on my pale, sickly thin, uncovered arms. Scrabbling desperately in the half-light for a blanket to comfort myself with, I heard the shrill sound of the daily alarms piercing through the dull quiet of the day. It wouldn't be long now until the guards arrived. I attempted to prepare for their arrival, glancing over my cell briefly, ensuring there was nothing left out that I could be punished for. There were a few items- clothing strewn across the carpet- I hadn’t cleaned up that I ought to have put away before now. The ticking clock on my bedside table marked my loss of days, I never knew how much time I would have left before my passing. It kept ticking, mocking me; mocking my suffering _._ I considered cleaning the room quickly but it was too late.

Too late. The heavy knocking of steel-toed boots had arrived outside my cell door: they had come to take me away at last.

The woman entered first, scolding me for the mess of blankets and video games scattered unceremoniously about the room. She was always nagging at me. Unfortunately, the man who followed her through the doorway was far more intimidating, a twisted smile painting his lips as he raised his hand to present my uniform. A disgusting, cream coloured shirt; vile charcoal trousers, a tie made of uncomfortable, scratchy material and ill-fitting shoes- my death suit. The woman left the room swiftly, abandoning me with _him._ He had joined not long ago, but already he had developed a sense of superiority with me.

Once I was frantically, forcefully dressed by the male warden it was time to leave. Solemnly, I asked where the female guard had gone to pass the time. The response given to me was an outright lie: “looking after the twins”. Hmph- as if that woman had an ounce of ‘motherly compassion' within her. If she was willing to abandon me and place me in the care of strangers like this man, she was no considerate human being, let alone a good mother. Yet, I was thankful for the wailing of my siblings in the room next door. If it kept that woman busy then I appreciated it. I knew my impending demise was coming. The thoughts of what was about to happen swam around chaotically in my head, causing my legs to buckle beneath me. I hit the floor with a painful thud. My mind slipped between sanity and delirium, not able to remain in a constant state. Unable to walk, I was lifted savagely by the dark-haired man. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to cry out for help, but my lungs wouldn’t obey me. I was left breathless, gasping for air like a drowning sailor, unable to call out for help amongst the crashing waves and tempestuous winds. The corridors we walked down were lined with dim lights, illuminating the old, peeling wallpaper on the walls. Children’s toys lay strewn at intervals. This place triggered faint memories, but I wouldn't acknowledge any connection I had with it.

The warden was carrying me as if I were a corpse already, bringing me closer to the death he seemed to think I had already experienced. Not yet. My life was due to end soon, strapped to a chair, 2300 volts pulsing through straight through my veins as I struggled to maintain a grip on the life I so pitifully cared for. My heart would eventually stop, leaving my body uncontrollably squirming for a few moments before I would fall limp, a meaningless sack of skin and bones unnecessarily occupying a few metres of the earth. As I was buckled in I whispered my final prayers. I was still couldn’t comprehend why I deserved this. I heard the engine start, signalling the termination of my life. The male warden turned around from his plush leather seat in the front, a concerned look covering his face.

"Chin up son, it's only your first day back. How bad could it be?”

He had no right to call me son, I was no ‘son’ of his. Just because he was a man my mother had accepted into her life, that didn’t mean that I would show him the same acceptance as my ‘stepfather’. If only he could understand what merely one day in that facility would do to me. Did he even understand what torture he was sentencing me to, what hell I would have to endure as a result of his selfish decision to send me there? I refused to accept that I couldn’t receive an education at home, it would be so much simpler; less excruciating. The death I imagined had been so kindly offered to me would have been preferable to attending that hell.

"Stop fussing, it’s only school." he murmured, clearly disappointed at my outburst this morning. If only he knew the hatred I had for that place, then maybe he would have taken pity on me.


	2. the breakup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little prompt we spent many a day writing notes on for a friend. ah yes, the heartbreak is a wonderous thing ^^

 

 

His mind began to wander, remembering the first time he saw her upset:

 

The soft haired, warm skinned, lightly freckled girl stumbled up to the old Victorian house. Her delicate hands trembling as she unclasped the rusted gate. The sun was setting behind her, colouring the horizon in vivid shades of seashell pink and deep clementine. Across the expanse, the sun illuminated the colours with a warm glow. Flecks of radiant peach and yellow glittering amongst the cotton clouds which graced the entire length of the sky. The sunlight looked dazzling as it shone through the wandering clouds, making each one appear to have a heavenly aura. She wobbled nervously up the path towards the front door. Her hands hovered momentarily over the doorbell, still hesitant to ring it. A man’s voice called out, asking who was there. She remained silent for a moment, then replied with her name in a broken, hushed whisper before breaking down into tears. He reached out uncertainly towards her and pulled her into a warm embrace. He felt a little overwhelmed, not really knowing how to react in this situation. At a loss for words or any better option, he lets her inside.

 

Ushering her inside, a look of worry painted obviously across his boyish features, he settles her on the plush leather sofa. He sits down next to her, asking smoothly what is wrong. She explains: a friend lied to her about being too busy to spend time with her when in reality they were hanging out with other friends. When she confronted them about it, they confessed. Bluntly, they told her she was 'too needy', that they didn't want to support her anymore because she was so annoying. She ends up quietly sobbing into his chest, it broke him to see her like this. What happened to her usual happy-go-lucky, upbeat self?

 

After hearing this he wants nothing more than to find the person who hurt her and end them. She was so kind-hearted and innocent, why did people choose to hurt her like this? In that moment he swore to never hurt her- to never leave her. He wanted to cherish her always, to treasure her for the rest of their lives. He promises to always support her, stroking her hair gently to calm her down. She looks up and smiles softly at him through tear-blurred eyes, eyelashes fluttering. "Please don't leave me, please n-never leave me. Promise?" she asks tentatively. "Of course I won't, ever."

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back in the present, he's about to break up with her. He still doesn't want to break his promise to her, he feels responsible for taking care of her after all this time. He struts up to the door to tell her that he's leaving her, faltering as he pauses to knock. His previous confidence wavers as he realises the severity of the pain he’s about to inflict on this unsuspecting woman. She opens the door, smiling pleasantly at him. He could feel his chest tightening, making the words he wanted so desperately to say catch in his throat. Mumbling, hanging his head low in shame, he spoke. "I'm sorry I can't do this anymore, I can't be the one to support you. I don't know how to make you feel better and you deserve so much more than m-" she slapped him, slamming the door harshly in his face, leaving him hurt and confused. He knows the sting on his cheek is nothing, _nothing_ , compared to the pain she is feeling right now. He has become the reason for her suffering, and that destroys him. All the broken promises, all the carefree days they spent together; they all come back to haunt him in this moment. The warm summer days they spent relaxing in her garden, the cool winter mornings they huddled together for warmth. The starlight nights they would spend gazing up at the skies together, reminiscing about their future plans. All that is over now, he knows she’ll never want to see him again after what he did. His knees buckle beneath him as he falls to the floor, shaken and very much alone. He thought he'd be okay with all this, that he didn't care anymore- evidently, that was not the case.

 

She is numb, emotions and heartbreak clouding her mind. Traitorous tears begin to spill down her cheeks, dripping carelessly onto the wood floor beneath her. She can't process this, doesn't know how to stop the aching in her chest. She slides to her knees, sobbing, head resting uncomfortably against the door, she gives in. Why does this always happen to her? Why does everyone she ever loves leave her?

 

So here they will remain, both unaware that the other feels the same sting of pain, the same ache of rejection. They sit, leaning against opposite sides of the stained oak door, both sobbing over the first love they've lost forever.


	3. pathetic fallacy: rains drops, and thus the heart does too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yellow is the happiest colour, or at least it is for me and you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the author doesn't like giving characters names, and enjoys confusing the reader by doing so.
> 
> an old piece from a few months back ☆

With each step she took, the thicker the mud grew. It raked up the back of her heels and smeared itself into her tights, never having the time to dry before more mud flicked itself up onto her. She grimaced each time she freed her feet from the suction of the dark slime only to have to land it back down in the fresh mud before her with an ugly splat. 

Her umbrella, which until recently laid dormant, collecting dust in some stray cupboard where single gloves and old coats were thrown, was her only shield against the constant onslaught of raindrops. They came from nowhere, suddenly pelting down at her like arrows fired up into and down from the sky, attacking her and everything around her indiscriminately, exploding onto the ground like rapid-fire bullets. 

She never had to face this sort of treatment until recently. Until recently, this sort of weather was a rare occurrence, and even then it wasn’t as harsh as it was at that moment. The rain was light, sprinkling down from the clouds and onto flower beds. It pitter-pattered down her bedroom window, and she could even say that she found it soothing. This, however, was not so. This weather was torturous, slowing her movements, choking her with rain, and trying to get to her from all directions. She hated it, she hated it, she hated it so much. 

That thought in mind, a bunch of leaves rushed up into the air, catching themselves on her face, and almost, almost, almost made her lose her balance and come crashing down head-first into the thick sludge. Her feet skidded, and she caught herself by the grit of her shoes. Coughing, she used a cold and trembling hand to wipe the leaves from her eyesight before carefully picking herself up from her position, eventually standing upright once again. She huffed, catching her breath. Once she stabilized she found herself whipping her head around. Fortunately, no one had seen her. At that, she allowed herself to let out an angry sigh.

Surely, it was all that girl’s fault.

 

That girl trailed in late that day, again, quietly opening the door long after the teacher had called the register, and had not even offered any form of apology. Immediately at the sight of her, the wet, muddy class rearranged themselves accordingly. Other students put bags and books on any empty chairs next to them, or pushed the chairs all the way under the table and held them there; they noisily propped their feet up in front of them, dirtying the plastic seat with the muck of their shoes.

Like every day that girl ducked her head, shuffling her feet to the back of the class to her rickety desk, scraping the wobbly chair across the carpet before sitting down and began to bite at her nails. 

The girl had stopped trying to pick dried mud off from her tights and instead took to twirling a lock of hair around her finger, having found her new objective. She stared at that girl. She glared, she bored, she gawked - whatever she could try in order to get her attention. 

See, the girl wanted to see that girl’s eyes. Those eyes that were rumoured to be able to turn back time, see through walls (and other people’s clothing, some feared), or even read people’s minds. Ever since that girl turned up, ghosting into their classroom, there had been nothing but mud clogging up their minds, filling their senses with thick sludge and their rationality with slime. The girl was convinced. She was sure that everything was that girl’s fault, but the more everyone tried to push her away, the worse it seemed to get. 

Perhaps… perhaps if she could see that girl’s eyes for herself, she would know for sure… yes, _that_ was why.

So, she stared. _Show your eyes_ , she commanded. _Look up_ , she called out. _Look up_. 

No response. That girl looked down at her desk, as if the crude drawings scribbled on the chipped wood were at all interesting, sleek black hair forming curtains over her eyes. 

The girl, whose shoes were as muddy as her heart, continued to stare, blinking over clouded lenses. 

 

No luck. A day’s worth of work was all for nought – not once in any of the classes they shared did that girl look up. Her shoulders slumped as she pushed her way through the masses to reach the locker room. There was always tomorrow, she reminded herself, she would get to see that girl tomorrow. Still, she wanted to see those eyes today, she whined to herself. Was it too much to ask for that girl to strain her neck up just a little bit? To brush that hair out of her face just for a moment? To blink up at her, allowing her eyes to pierce hers just for a second? Just to get the satisfaction? Was that so _hard_? She repeated those stupid questions in her mind, picking up her pace until she reached her stupid locker, throwing it open, chucking her stupid bag over her stupid shoulder and—

Her stupid umbrella was gone.

She reacted quickly, rummaging through her bag, it wasn’t there. She checked the inside of her locker, it wasn’t there. 

 

Standing by her locker, she felt her legs dissolve into jelly, needing to stay completely still or risk total collapse. Surely, that would be how she died. With no umbrella, she had no shield, thus no protection against the angry mob of rain awaiting her. 

Well, perhaps she could have called her parents? No, as if they would’ve come. Maybe she could just stay there the night, curling under a teacher’s desk, covered in unused textbooks? No, they locked the school up and cut off the electricity after nine, there was no way she could sleep in the pitch black. 

So, she really was doomed.

She breathed in and out shakily, trying to find footing and attempted to shuffle out the locker room door, her legs wobbling as she choked on her breath. It would be a long walk to the front entrance. 

As she pushed the door open, a gush of cold air cut into her throat. She gulped down and gathered all the strength required to stagger outside.

The girl looked up, and there she stood. 

 

That girl’s feet were pigeon-toed, standing on the very edge of the part of the school’s entrance that was kept dry by a metal roof that was pelted at with heavy droplets; and in her hands, she twirled a yellow umbrella. 

The girl narrowed her eyes. At least she would be dry, thank goodness, she grumbled silently. Then, she shook her head; dwelling on it would just make the journey home harder than it needed to be, she said to herself drearily. So, instead of saying or doing anything to that girl, she simply took a prolonged breath, slowly exhaling, as she prepared herself in every way possible to venture out into the battlefield lying just within her reach.   
Though they felt like they were nailed into place she managed to shuffle her feet forward, moving closer and closer towards the heavy crash of the downpour, until she could practically feel the rain on her flesh. However, as she was about to take the first step out, she was stopped. A physical barrier stuck out of nowhere, bringing her movements to an immediate halt. Once her mind cleared of the primary problem of the liquid firing squad, she realised what exactly had blocked her.

An arm was outstretched, steady but uncertain, as a hand holding a yellow umbrella was gingerly motioning towards her. The girl stood frozen, blinking over and over to be sure of what was before her. At her lack of a proper reaction, the umbrella was ushered closer, until it almost pressed into her body. Slowly, the girl reached out and wrapped her tremoring hand around its pole. Immediately after the girl had the umbrella securely in her hand the other hand was withdrawn, slithering back to its place by that girl’s side. 

The girl was undoubtedly taken aback by that girl’s unwarranted act of kindness. Realistically she knew she should be worrying about that solemn girl’s own safety, but the girl’s mind simply couldn’t move beyond the fact that that girl had just relinquished her shield to someone like her. The girl who has never talked to her, never offered her a gentle expression, and never did anything but glare. She could feel her teeth chatter for a reason beyond the chill icing her lips, and her hands tremble for a reason beyond their numbness. She opened her mouth the tiniest amount, as if to say something, but found that no words could be formed, instead standing lamely with her mouth slapping open and shut like a wide-eyed fish. The umbrella, which felt so light but so weighted, wobbled in her grip, only able to comprehend thoughts beginning with ‘why’, and could barely hold its handle properly; and it’s because of that lack of concentration that her fingers slipped, catching and clicking the spring, unceremoniously collapsing the tent of the umbrella over her head.

The next few moments seemed to stretch on as the girl was left with another shock to the system, her sight blinded by a bright, loud yellow, with the only sound being the clap of rain and the gasping of her own breath; but then an even more prominent sound made its way into the air, catching the girl’s attention and quickly shaking her from her initial distress. It was laughter. A ringing of a bell, chiming in waves through the atmosphere, a giggle which then deepened into a cackle and finally bloomed into a full howl, loud and high-pitched. It sounded like someone had heard a joke for the first time, the laughter was past uncontrollable, the breath of the person was heaved and short-lunged, as if it caused them physical pain for them to be so joyful. That sound. That laughter. That girl. Never had the girl heard such a pure, untampered laugh; a laugh that nowise held back. That kind of laughter drowned out all down-chucks of rain. The girl slowly lifted the umbrella up out of her face, unable to fight off the urge to become infected by that girl’s contagious, beautiful laughter, letting out a light snort of amusement as she tucked stray hairs behind her ear. Hearing such surprising emotion from such a surprising person was enough to unravel the tension in her bones, allowing her to shift from foot-to-foot, but still found herself drawing blanks when trying to think of something to say. 

That girl, now having a flushed face, picking at her nails, appeared more mortified than the girl before her should be feeling (since it was her embarrassing fail, after all), and suddenly seemed eager to get away. Feeling a sense of urgency, the girl found a wavering voice, blasting it out with all her might before that girl had a chance to brave the battlefield of arrowing raindrops. “Wait!” she blurted out, the desperation in her voice more prominent than she wanted it to be. Nevertheless, she succeeded in halting that girl’s movement. She darted her eyes around, trying to think of something – anything – to keep her there. “I…” she began, a small hint of curiosity having crept up her spine, but she managed to shake it from her mind; instead, she gestured to the umbrella that she still had in her hand. “I’ll give it back to you,” she renewed, “tomorrow, when you sit next to me in class.”

 

Those words caused a shift in the air. That girl whipped her head around, facing the girl head on, wringing her hands. She teetered on her feet, bouncing on her tip-toes, before landing the soles of her feet firmly on the ground. Trembling fingers began to reach, first slowly but then growing sure of themselves as they rose and brushed away the thin, raven streaks of hair that shielded that girl’s eyes. 

When she raised her eyes up, all the girl could see were two large, deep pools of sky-blue, with enough width and depth to submerge herself in them. They blinked, glossing over the cloudless canvas as they did so. Then, the owner of those eyes piped up with a small voice, trying to be more composed than before, “O-okay.” She squeaked. “T-thank you.”

The girl wanted to add on to that. She wanted to say everything to her, learn everything about her, try everything to make her laugh again. However, at that girl’s few words, she found that her tongue had fallen heavy in her mouth. Her heart’s now hardened shell had chipped away and began to beat – ba-dum, ba-dum – until she had to swallow down thickly to prevent it from getting stuck in her throat. Her knees knocked together, unable to move at all, and the only possible muscles she could function were the ones that were currently pulling the corners of her lips up into the widest, goofiest smile she could muster.

That girl smiled back. They smiled at each other, smiled until their mouths ached, and then smiled even brighter; and they noted, as an after-thought, that the sun had come out.


End file.
